Joan Didion talks about death, dying and being dead!

Tons of twats with melancholy dispositions and literary ambitions –– just like yours truly! –– will storm the Union Square Barnes & Noble to hear Joan Didion’s death rattle.  I’m preparing myself to be elbowed by a lot of doe-eyed white girls.

Provided the wind created by the storming hoards of aforementioned twats doesn’t knock the Joan over and cause her to shatter into pieces, I think I may raise my hand and ask her what her favorite flavor of ice cream is.



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